Dreams
by YukkiMalin
Summary: Ten years have passed since Ib and Garry left the gallery. Yet, none of them remember each other fully. Takes place after Memories Crannies ending. The first solo story I published, please be gentle. One-shot. Sequel posted on Malin's original account, go to our profile for the link.
1. Fantasy or reality?

**A/N: This is my(NicoliaMalin) first story that I wrote by myself and post it to the public. So do be nice about the reviews. And if you are willing, check out the other stories we have!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Note: This takes place ten years after the "Memory Crannies" ending. AND OMG. I WROTE THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF...UMM THE EARLY MORNING(12AM-6AM) SO THERE'S ALOT OF MISTAKES...I'LL...UM...FIX THEM?**

**[Roles:**  
**NicoliaMalin - All characters]**

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I sighed as I closed my laptop shut. The clock on the wall read 11:00 PM in a bright red light. "One more hour before my 19th birthday..." I mumbled to myself in the dimly lit room.

"I wonder if I'll have a dream today." I wondered out loud as I walked over to my bed. Ever since the day I visited the Guertena exhibition with my parents ten years ago, I had been having dreams every night of a twisted gallery, a gallery with barely any lights and narrow, long corridors, littered with various paintings and nameplates.

All of those dreams felt very realistic, almost as if it did happen, but the strange thing was, could such a thing really happen? Paintings couldn't move, and the Guertena exhibition that I remembered wasn't as dimly lit as the ones in my dreams.

Last night, I think I dreamt the ending of my adventures through the twisted gallery. Together with my companion, a purple haired jumpy teenage male, we went through the painting that probably brought us to the twisted gallery.

In the dreams, I was still nine years old. The way I spoke, walked, and dressed, all of them were exactly the same as the time I was a kid. I remembered finding my companion lying on the ground, on the verge of death, that was how we first met. And somehow, no matter how many times I had called out to him in my dreams, I could never remember his name whenever I woke up.

But I knew, this man, no matter how much of a coward he was, no matter how much he screamed and ran whenever something happened, I knew, if he was not there, I would've never, ever, made it alive out of those adventures, even if they were a dream.

I looked at the bedside table. On it, rested my diary, in which for the past ten years, I have written everything of my dreams the moment I woke up. I opened it, read through it for the last time, before I put it back where it belonged and turned off the table lamp.

"Tomorrow...these words-"

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**(different person's point of view)**

As I made the final stroke of paint on the canvas, I took in a deep breath as I stepped back to examine the painting.

It depicted two people, a young girl with light brown hair and red skirt, together with a younger teenage version of myself, standing in front of a very long painting that showed a white gallery exhibition, bursting with life.

I stretched, trying to relax my stiff muscles from working all day in my atelier, I have been doing this every since I started getting dreams from my visit to the Guertena exhibition ten years ago.

I don't know why I paint out as much as I can from my dreams, but some part of me just does it. No matter how I try to put it away, try to leave my atelier and forget about painting those dreams, my hands move on it's own on the canvas, every stroke describing my dreams.

Those dreams were always a wonder to me, it felt so real, I first thought I wasn't dreaming. I thought the fact I was walking down a long stairwell of red steps and walls were real, I thought I was really going to die when the lady in blue took my rose and started tearing the petals apart.

The girl I met in my adventures, I could never remember her name, not even now, no matter how many times I had painted her in this atelier. But I knew one thing, she was the one who gave me the will to carry on living in the twisted gallery, if it weren't for her, I would've probably tried to commit suicide if the lady in blue didn't take my rose.

I took the painting from the easel and placed it on top of a stack of paintings, where the rest of my paintings of those dreams were.

"Tomorrow...these paintings-"

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**(Both's point of view)**

"-will be shown to the world."

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**Okay! That's the end! Thanks for reading! Please review! Uhm about whether I'll continue, yes I'm considering to continue this, but it's kinda sad to continue this...I like the suspense where you don't know what will happen when the two realize their stories match...so...if I think of something good, I'll continue this. Feel free to suggest ideas!**


	2. Author Note about Sequel

Hey guys this is Malin here~

This chapter is to announce the definite continuation of Dreams! However, it will not be continued in this account. It will be moved to my own personal account, u/3036067/Xx-NicoliaMalin-xX

The reason for that is because this account is shared between me and Yukki (and occasionally, An), and originally Dreams was posted as a one-shot fanfic with no continuation. However as I have changed my mind, I will be moving this story over. The first chapter/prequel will remain here, but a copy will be there as well.

Here's a warning: I have decided to wing this story, basically, I have not planned a single thing for this story and have decided to go with the flow. Therefore, like any other story I've winged, it may not make sense at certain parts especially since I'm doing this alone, and I may post faster than doing stories here, BUT the ending might be crappy. (In a way that doesn't make sense)

If you don't mind my possible blunders. Please proceed. Thank you.


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